


if i were a robot, i wouldn't have this stupid virus

by picturecat



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Superfamily (Marvel), the only superfamily I have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picturecat/pseuds/picturecat
Summary: Steve is de-serumed. Steve then catches a cold.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a feel-better fic for starspangledsprocket, crossposted from tumblr

“This is bullshit,” Steve rasps out loud, mouth twisting bitterly. But talking was probably a bad idea, he realizes, as his breathing quickly dissolves into a painful coughing fit. Each cough racks at his chest, tightening the squeeze on his lungs.

It passes, finally, and he draws in breath on a slow, painful wheeze. He droops back into his pillow, every inch of him exhausted and leaden and aching.

Yeah, he definitely has asthma again.

He’s just started to drift off (no thanks to the the cloying stuffiness in his nose and head) when he hears his bedroom door open.

It’s Tony. He has a blanket draped over one arm, a bowl of something steaming, and several bottles of things that probably taste nasty.

“Hey,” Tony says lowly, pushing the door closed with his foot and approaching the bed. “How are you feeling?” He sets the bowl on the bedside table.

“Tiny,” Steve says shortly. “Sick, weak. Kind of pissed off.”

Tony snorts, and Steve cracks a smile despite himself. Tony hands him a little plastic cup filled with a bright red syrup. “Cough medicine,” he says briskly. “It’s cherry flavored,” he adds, and Steve takes it from him.

“Cheers,” he says wryly, and downs the medicine. His face twists in disgust.

“That does _not_ taste like cherry,” he protests, setting the cup aside.

“Yeah, the cherry flavoring is a lie,” Tony says, mouth twitching upwards. “Sorry.”

Tony catches his hand, running his thumb over the bony knuckles, and Steve’s mood sours very quickly.

“Don’t,” he says quietly, tugging his hand away. He knows how he looks right now—all of him skinny and pale, his arms so thin that they’re mostly bone.

“Don’t what?” Tony asks, eyebrows quirked challengingly. He pulls Steve’s hand back over. “Don’t kiss my husband?” he says, and presses a sweet little kiss to Steve’s sweaty palm.

Steve sighs. “You’re going to catch my cold,” he says tiredly. It’s a weak protest, and he knows it.

“Nah,” Tony replies. “I haven’t caught a cold in years—there’s too much alcohol in my system. All the germs get drunk and have to call their designated drivers.”

“Science is amazing,” Steve deadpans. Tony laughs quietly, and then nudges at Steve’s side.

“Budge over,” he says. “And let me in, you cover hog.” He tosses the extra blanket over to Steve, and then clicks the control attached to it. “Electric blanket,” Tony explains.

Steve smuggles it under his blankets quickly, squirming to get it wrapped around his body.  Tony can have the comforter now; he tore some of the stuffing out of it anyway.

When he finally gets settled, the electric blanket tucked up to his neck, he looks up to see Tony staring over at him with an odd expression on his face. He looks… almost transfixed.

“What?” Steve asks, frowning.

Tony clears his throat quickly. “Nothing,” he says, and is he _blushing?_

A second later Tony has flopped down on the bed beside Steve and propped himself up on a pillow. Steve eyes him suspiciously, but can’t find a trace of red in his face. If he did blush, it’s gone now.

Tony stares firmly ahead at Steve’s television, ignoring his gaze entirely. “What do you want to watch?” he asks cheerfully. “I’ll let you pick because I’m a magnanimous overlord like that.”

“I honestly don’t care, as long as it’s not _Frozen_ ,” Steve mutters. ‘Let It Go’ was only catchy the first 800 times.

“A man after my own heart,” Tony says. “JARVIS, put on something fun. Preferably with explosions.”

“How does _Mr. and Mrs. Smith_ sound, sir?” JARVIS replies.

“Amenable,” Tony answers, and the movie queues up. He reaches for the bowl on the bedside table and passes it over to Steve, who sits up quickly to take it from him. It’s chicken noodle.

“How’s Peter?” Steve asks, stirring the soup idly.

“Out,” Tony replies. “I gave him some NyQuil because he was miserable, and he went right to sleep.”

Steve frowns. “Are kids supposed to have NyQuil?” he asks.

“Probably not,” Tony admits. “But I gave him like a third of the regular dose, it’s fine.”

“If our son overdoses on cold medicine, I’m suing you,” Steve says.

“Drink your soup,” Tony retorts.

Steve obeys, and the soup feels so good on his sore throat. He hums a little and takes another sip. “This is good,” he says quietly, and drinks again.

“Thor made it, so it’s probably literally magical,” Tony says, and snuggles closer to Steve, tugging at the electric blanket.

“No way,” Steve protests. “This is my electric blanket, you gave it to me, you are never getting it back—“

“I do not have any designs on your blanket,” Tony interrupts loftily. “I’m just trying to cuddle with my sick husband, thank you very much you _ingrate_.”

Steve subsides. “Oh, well in that case,” he says, and leans into Tony’s side. Tony is _warm_ , he realizes, and burrows closer.

“At least put the soup down first,” Tony says, sounding exasperated. “You’re going to spill it, and electrocute us both, and then Peter will be an orphan. Again.”

Steve sits up just long enough to put the soup back on the bedside table, and then curls into Tony’s side again, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“This is strange,” Steve says, head resting on Tony’s chest. He’s never been in this body with Tony before, never been anything but strong and broad and tall when he’s curled up next to Tony.

“Yeah, kinda,” Tony admits softly, tightening his arm around Steve’s back. “Not a bad thing, though.”

“Kind of a bad thing,” Steve points out dryly. “I’m miserably sick.”

“Yes, which is why we should have adopted an android baby,” Tony says.

“What?” Steve says, scrunching up his face. He wants to look up at Tony incredulously, but he’s too tired.

“Android babies can go through decontamination every day,” Tony says. “Android babies won’t come home from school and give their fathers their colds.”

“Android babies are not as cute as Peter,” Steve says, closing his eyes. Tony’s heart thumps steadily under his ear.

“Android babies are not as messy as Peter,” Tony replies pointedly.

“Nothing is as messy as Peter,” Steve says with finality, and Tony’s chest shakes as he laughs.

“That’s true,” he concedes.

The last commercial fades out and the movie finally starts playing. Steve doesn’t open his eyes, just listens to the dialogue and the sound of Tony’s breathing. Tony’s hand slides up his back and comes to a rest on the back of his head, stroking gently back and forth through his hair.

Steve is going to fall asleep in about five seconds.

“I’m probably going to drool on you,” Steve mutters into Tony’s shirt.

“Yeah, well, I’ve vomited on you before, so I feel like we’re probably even,” Tony replies.

Steve sighs, relaxing against Tony’s warmth, and time goes fuzzy around him as he slides into a warm doze.

The soft mist of sleep stirs just once, when the room has gone dark and the movie has ended. He feels Tony shifting underneath him, scooting down on the bed. Tony settles finally and sighs.

A set of dry lips press against Steve’s forehead, lingering sweetly. Tony inhales deeply, his arm tight around Steve’s side, and then, finally, pulls away. “Love you,” he murmurs roughly.

Steve rouses just enough to nuzzle closer to Tony, and is asleep on his next breath.


End file.
